by Lily Miles
“I heard what happened,” he whispers. “What were you thinking getting involved with a nun here?”
“It just happened,” I shrug before pulling away from the tall guy. “Neither of us meant it to. How did you find out?”
Cliff grimaces and drags a hand through his dark hair, gaze shifting back again towards the convent before returning to me. “The thing about living and working at this convent is, rumors spread like wildfire. All it takes is one eavesdropping ear and suddenly everyone knows everything.”
Sucking in a shallow breath, I whirl around towards the convent, eyes skimming over the spires that pierce the blue sky.
“If you know, then Mother Antonia has to know everything, too. Maggie could be in huge trouble!” I groan.
I have to protect Maggie. It’s a nearly feral instinct, a compulsion. If anything were to happen to her, I would lose my mind. Even if we can’t be together, she needs to be protected. Cliff grabs me by the arm again, clutching me so hard his fingers dig into my flesh and leave a bruise. He leans closer and shakes his head.
“If you go storming in there and making a huge ruckus, you’re only going to make it worse for Sister Margaret. Mother Antonia isn’t the type to go easy on her girls. You need to calm down and take a breath. What’s your plan?” he asks, releasing me from his hold.
I fall back against the side of the building, my body suddenly heavy and tired. My head lolls against the old brick wall that’s warm from the sun. My eyes press shut while I try to calm the whirlwind of my churning mind. “I'm leaving tonight. I don’t have a plan yet. It all depends on Maggie.”
“She’s going with you?” Cliff asks, surprised.
I don’t open my eyes but I shrug my shoulders. “Honestly, I'm not sure. She’s thinking it over now and making her choice. I'm going to see her one last time before I go.”
It hurts to think of leaving Maggie behind, but I know that Catherine is right. I can’t stay here now that everyone knows about us, it’s only going to fuel Mother Antonia’s fury more. I won’t be the reason Maggie is harmed. But it’s going to take everything I’ve got not to drag her out of the convent with me—the last thing I want is to leave her alone out here.
“And how are you getting out?” he presses. His arms fold over his muscled chest, his head tilting to the side with interest.
This time, I can’t help but laugh. I crack open an eye and grin at the man in front of me. “I have no idea. Maybe I’ll just take off running in the direction of the town.”
“It’s a forty-five minute drive,” he answers doubtfully. “Your legs will fall off before you get there.”
I shrug a second time. “No legs would be better than staying here.”
Would Maggie agree? Again, I look back at the convent with its formidable stone walls. Is she safe? When we first ran into each other, I saw what had happened to her palms. So what would Mother Antonia do to her for being with me? If Maggie did decide to stay at the convent, would she be punished for the rest of her days?
At the sound of approaching feet, Cliff and I both stiffen and listen intently. The footsteps are heavy and unsteady on the grass and Cliff peers around the side of the building before stepping out.
“Sister Ruth!” he exclaims curiously. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
The old woman beams, accepting the kind doctor’s arm when he holds it out to steady her on the grass.
“Don’t you worry about me, Doctor. I'm out here because of our reverend mother,” she says cheerily.
Ruth has a bag over her shoulder that she digs through for a moment. Inside, I can see a stack of stamped envelopes each labeled in black ink. From among them, she pulls out a crumpled paper towel that I recognize vaguely. Where had I seen that?
When she holds it out to the doctor, he frowns at it in apparent disgust.
Catherine, I remember. She’d scrawled a hasty note on the paper towel in the kitchen. What was it doing here now?
“It’s for you, Doctor!” Ruth chuckles. “Special delivery. Mother Antonia has me handling all the mail.”
“And she wrote me a note on a paper towel?” Cliff answers suspiciously.
Ruth laughs again. “I don’t read the letters I deliver. That would be wrong, Doctor.”
When Cliff doesn’t move, I take the crude letter for him and unfold it. As I begin to read it, Ruth turns away to go back to the convent. Changing her mind, she pauses and turns to me, her eyes locking on mine. Though her face is typically kind, the sun now illuminates stern lines on her face.
“Not only am I handling the mail, Trevor, but the laundry service as well. Just so you know, everything must be on the truck at nine p.m. sharp. Again, that’s nine p.m.—I’m a stickler for punctuality.”
Then, her face bursting into a radiant smile, she turns and hobbles away while humming a hymn I’d often overheard the sisters singing.
Cliff peers over my shoulder, curiously inspecting the note that Catherine had written.
“It’s time for everyone’s annual flu shots, isn’t it? Tonight at 7 p.m., Main Hall.”
“What in the world?” he mutters irritably. “I never do them at night! Who even wrote this?”
I swallow hard and hand him the paper towel, watching him reread it a few times, in the hopes it would make more sense.
“Tonight, you really should do what this asks,” I respond quietly, gritting my teeth. I don’t know how this all ties together, but I know Catherine wouldn’t have requested the doctor to distract everyone if she didn't have a plan. “It would mean a lot to me if you did.”
Cliff stares at me, his gray eyes just barely widening with understanding.
“I see,” he murmurs, arching an eyebrow.
He asks no further questions, probably because, like Ruth, he wants to know as little as possible: it’s safer that way. Mother Antonia can grill anyone she wants for answers, but she won’t get anywhere if no one has more than one piece of the puzzle. He inspects the note one last time and then rips the paper towel into tiny shreds, tossing them into the garbage can. The breeze interferes, and a handful of flecks of paper drift over the grass like snowflakes, floating back towards the convent where Maggie is waiting for me.
Only a little longer now.
33
The purple dusk is deepening as Sister Ruth hobbles down the gravel road to the convent mailbox. She hums as she flips through her bag of letters, glancing over the various addresses. Though she truly does not snoop through the letters that Mother Antonia asks her to mail, there can be a lot of information gleaned from the addresses.
She prepares to thrust the entire stack into the mailbox at once, when a single letter addressed to a judge in Boston a few hours away, slips free. Mother Antonia had never written a letter to such a judge before, Ruth knew, and she also knew that Trevor had come from Boston. Considering he was working here through a program that kept him out of prison, the mother superior was probably contacting the judge regarding Trevor’s recent transgression.
The envelope flutters towards the ground and—before Ruth can convince her oh-so-tired and oh-so-old limbs to properly react—falls into a large puddle left over from the heavy rains.
She clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she watches the ink of the letter slowly dissolve as it slips further and further into the water. She could have reached down and grabbed it, but Mother Antonia was very clear that Ruth was not to handle any of the letters, beyond taking them out of her bag and putting them into the mailbox.
This was, of course, entirely accidental. She’ll just have to tell Mother Antonia to rewrite that particular note. That is, if her feeble old mind could remember such a thing later: she did have so many other tasks to handle these days, thanks to the mother superior.
With a shrug, Ruth shuts the mailbox and trundles back to the convent.
Following the sound of Ruth’s humming, Mother Antonia abruptly whips around the corner, eyes smoldering.
“I was looking for you, Si
ster Ruth,” she snarls, her lips cruelly furling upward into a jack-o’-lantern-like grin. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“For what, exactly?” Ruth responds sweetly.
“Our young sisters are being led astray by temptation!” Mother Antonia bellows, “It’s all your fault! They follow your lessons and your example and they are behaving no better than harlots!
She shakes her head dramatically. “I thought by increasing your duties that you would be less inclined to cause trouble, but clearly that is not the case.”
“Is it?” Ruth replies. It’s a personal game of hers to respond to everything Mother Antonia says with a question.
Mother Antonia bristles, irritated with the constant questioning. “I’ve been communicating with Bishop Frederick about this matter for some time now. He’s on his way here and he’s going to have a strong word with you tonight.”
Ruth doesn’t even blink. “Is he now?”
The mother superior glowers, her pleased grin fading slightly with annoyance. Ideally, she’d expected tears or at the very least a good bit of blanching from the elderly sister, but Sister Ruth seemed as nonplussed as ever. Mother Antonia frowns now, the fun of her game derailed.
Oh, well, surely when the bishop tells Ruth she’s going to be expelled from the convent, then Mother Antonia will get some sort of reaction out of her. Until then, the reverend mother would try to be patient.
“Have you seen Sister Margaret?” Mother Antonia then asks, her eyes wandering up and down the halls. “Or the gardener?”
“Recently?” Ruth asks, pondering what exactly “recently” may truly mean. It could be defined as some point within the last week, or within the last ten seconds.
“Yes, recently!” spits the mother superior before giving an irate growl and shaking her head. “Sister Eva mentioned she saw Sister Margaret with you before your mailing rounds—you know what, never mind. I can tell you’re going to be of no use to me.”
“Mother Antonia!” the kind voice of Doctor Cliff calls, interrupting the two women.
The reverend mother spins around, fury distorting her face. “What are you doing inside?” she snarls ferociously.
Cliff just beams. “Strictly medical business, Reverend Mother. I understand your need for the cloister, but I believe health concerns rise above all. Correct?”
“Not above all,” Mother Antonia mutters, eyes lifting towards the Heavenly Father above before glowering at Cliff, who doesn’t seem perturbed.
Typically, as much as she hates men in general, Mother Antonia likes the doctor, but today she has no time for him. She needs to get everything in order for the arrival of the bishop. Everything must be in place before he reaches the convent.
Cliff lifts a clipboard, tapping it with his finger. “We missed our flu shots last winter, and now with the flu epidemic these days, flu shots are definitely due. Care to be the first, Mother Antonia?”
“What? What flu epidemic? No, I—” she mumbles, utterly discombobulated, as Cliff takes her gently by the arm and begins to coerce her in the opposite direction down the hall.
“Now, now, there’s no reason to be afraid … it’ll only take a minute, just a little sting … We’ll just assemble all the nuns and staff …” he says, his voice drifting off while Mother Antonia continues to argue.
Sister Ruth simply gives a slight bow of her head and then continues her ambling pace towards her room. It’s time she lay down for a nap. She wouldn’t want to be too tired when the bishop arrived, and she still needs to get the laundry out.
She pushes her door open, noting that it’s now empty. She’d left Catherine and Maggie inside while she took care of the mail, and now the room is so quiet that it almost makes the older sister sad.
She’s going to miss sweet Sister Margaret. She knows it’s only a matter of time before she misses Sister Catherine as well, and perhaps even a few more of her young charges.
These nuns are beautiful, but they’re not meant to be caged.
34
Margaret
Catherine is not a woman who’s used to feeling wild emotions, but I can feel her panicked energy as she races through the hall of the convent while dragging me along. She moves erratically, her feet noisy on the stone floor.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around.
“The doctor is distracting them so I can sneak you in here,” she answers quietly.
“That was nice of him,” I answer, surprised that Cliff would help Cat do anything insubordinate.
Catherine just shrugs. She works in mysterious ways, that one. Our hurried feet slow to a stop as the quiet church doors loom into view. She turns towards me, taking my hands in hers.
“I’m so relieved that you’ve decided to leave,” she says softly. Her eyes are shining. “I never doubted you would. I’ve known since you two met that he would steal you away.” She speaks affectionately, though her eyes are sad. “Somehow, I woke up today knowing it would be the last time I saw you.”
“Come with me, Cat,” I plead earnestly. “Come with us. You don’t want to be here either.”
Catherine bites her lip and then hugs me again. This time the hug lingers and Catherine presses her cheek against my own.
“I can’t,” she whispers, truly sad for perhaps the first time. “At least not yet … I haven’t paid for my sins yet. I want you to be happy more than anything. He loves you, Mags. I can see it in his eyes. And you love him.” Catherine was used to faking emotions, but right now there was nothing fake about the sincerity in her eyes.
“Your sins?” I whisper in confusion. “What sins?”
Cat’s eyes are sad but she shakes her head and refuses to speak further on the topic.
“Are you ready?” she adds.
I nod and give her hands a squeeze. I am ready to leave my habit and my oath behind. I’m ready to toss aside every vow I’ve made to the Church and step into a new world with vows to Trevor alone.
Catherine walks with me to the doors, helping me ease them open as quietly as possible; there isn’t a single light inside. Dusk is fading into darkness now, making the interior of the church swirl with shadows.
Trevor stands up from a pew, his hands extending towards me. I leap into his arms, eager to feel him against me.
“Stay here until at least midnight,” Cat whispers. “Then you can sneak away.” I nod and Catherine vanishes back out into the hall, shutting the doors.
Our mouths find one another as he clutches me against him. There is intense yearning in the way he embraces me, fingers spreading out over my hips and spine so that he can feel as much of me as possible through my habit.
“Maggie …” he whispers against my lips, “I thought I could leave without you, but I don’t know if I can anymore.”
Kissing me lightly all over my face, he opens his eyes to stare at me. My hands spread over his chest.
“Then don’t go without me,” I answer breathlessly.
A flash of shock jolts his handsome features. His jaw drops and he presses his forehead to my own. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
“Completely,” I answer, “Even wearing this habit right now feels unbearable, like it’s trying to suffocate me. Take it off of me, please.”
This time, he doesn’t ask if I'm sure. Because even I can hear the conviction in my words. Have I finally become brave?
He takes my veil and pushes it back off of my head. My mane of dark, curly hair tumbles down my back. Then he bends down and takes hold of my habit, slowly pulling it up and over my head, then tossing it aside.
Slowly, his eyes rake over me. I stand in front of him in a thin, white slip. I reach up my hands, taking the straps of the slip and easing them gradually off my shoulders and my arms, ’til the fabric glides off my body and forms a silken pool at my feet.
He breathes in the sight of me, staggering slightly backward and grabbing hold of one of the pews to steady himself. This gesture is so exaggerated, I almost giggle, but I’m too los
t in the heat of his gaze as it takes in every exposed inch of my body. Though I want to cover myself, I boldly resist the urge, because I’m not doing this for just any man, I’m doing this for Trevor. I push my white lace panties down. They join the pile and I step out of them.
“Maggie, what are you doing?” he asks.
“I want you,” I whisper, my voice quavering. “I want to be one with you, completely. I need …” I pause, cheeks burning pink no matter how hard I try not to blush, “I need you inside of me.”
Trevor rushes forward, pulling my naked body into his strong arms. The heat between us is so intense, the air so electric, I feel the sparks flying between him and me as I rip off his clothes and he’s stripped as well. Then I step back, allowing myself to take in the beauty of the man’s figure. I’ve seen a naked man before—but only in paintings and sculptures—and so I revel in the way the fading light outlines his broad shoulders, his strong chest and chiseled abs. But it’s what I find between his legs that truly takes my breath away.
His erection is swollen thick, curving up towards me as if it were beckoning me towards him.
Though I’d managed not to bashfully cover myself, Trevor’s face is red and his arms fold uncomfortably over his chest. I ease forward, pressing my palms against his chest so that he sits down on the pew behind us. He does so, tilting his head to look at me. His fingertips sweep slowly up and down my sides, his eyes again wandering over every curve of my body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I'm afraid to break you.”
“You’re not going to break me,” I murmur, “you’re going to put me together.” I straddle his lap and press my mouth eagerly to his. We kiss deeply, passionately. He grips my hips, pulling me towards him so that our naked chests crash together. My full breasts crush against him; his body feels so warm and strong, it makes it hard to breathe. I feel his swollen cock—Catherine had taught me that crude word—rigid against me, poking my lower abdomen. I can’t resist looking down and touching it, it’s fascinating and new to me. I marvel how big and thick it is, and how it responds to my strokes, becoming as hard as steel —it seems to have a mind of its own. And it seems, too, that I’m the one on its mind! As I encircle it with my fingers and try rubbing it up and down, it only gets bigger, and Trevor moans and starts panting in short, shallow breaths.
